


Restoration

by hannapalooza



Category: Life on Mars (UK)
Genre: Anal Sex, Dom!Sam, Fingering, M/M, Public Sex, sub!gene
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-23
Updated: 2013-01-23
Packaged: 2017-11-26 13:11:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,603
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/650860
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hannapalooza/pseuds/hannapalooza
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam knew what he needed to do, but that doesn't mean he liked it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Restoration

Sam lounged on the sofa in Gene’s office and watched, eyes narrowed, as Gene sat at his desk and dove headlong into a bottle of whiskey. Gene was barely tolerating his presence, they had both been silent for hours and Sam knew it was time. The case was stagnating, leads gone cold and snouts tapped dry, and Gene was hurtling towards destruction, pain and fury threatening to consume him. The team had noticed the Guv was slipping again; drinking more, smoking more, lashing out with tongue and fist, losing the grip on his ironclad control. And Sam bore the brunt of restless sleepless nights and barely restrained days, knowing what he needed to do.

 

 

\---------------------

 

The first time it had happened by accident. Sam was furious and despairing watching Gene implode in front of him, and in desperation had turned to Ray for advice, stumbling inadvertently on the frightening truth. This was a pattern, a long ingrained self-destructive cycle that Gene had been exhibiting for years.

 

“Leave ‘im be boss” were Ray’s sage words. “He’ll be alright again soon. Disappear on a bender for a few days and when ‘e comes back everything’s back to normal.” Ray shrugged eloquently at Sam’s shocked expression.

 

“How long has this been happening?”

 

“Long as I’ve known ‘im. Just his way of letting off steam I s'pose.”

 

Sam didn’t know what to do, didn’t want to just stand by and watch Gene hit bottom, and resolved to make him talk, by force if necessary. That night he sat on the edge of his bed, watching Gene in the corner taking long graceless gulps from the bottle of scotch Nelson had reluctantly sold him. He was silent, staring stonily out of the window, moving only to drink or smoke, closed off and radiating pain and hostility. Sam felt impotent and angry with himself for being unable to help his friend and lover, but he was furious with Gene for not letting him in, not letting him help. Sam nursed his own, smaller bottle of whisky, alternating between scowling petulantly at Gene’s back, and gnawing at his fingers in worry. After hours of waiting for Gene to break the tension and say something, anything, Sam finally snapped and he stalked across the room, heaving the bigger man to his feet using his tie for leverage. Neither man spoke and Gene threw the first punch. The fight was quick and brutal, Sam for once gaining the upper hand, as Gene was drunk, his movements clumsy and uncoordinated.

 

Gene landed winded on the floor, flat on his back, dazed and struggling to catch his breath, unwilling or unable to move. Sam quickly moved to sit astride him, his rage in full force, hitting him in the chest over and over; spitting insults at him through clenched teeth, lashing out at him in pain and fury. At some point Gene had gone still had stopped trying to catch and hold Sam’s hands, tilting his head up to the ceiling to avoid Sam’s gaze, just lying there and waiting for Sam to punch himself out.

 

Sam had suddenly stopped, looking down at Gene still and silent beneath him. Gene’s jaw was clenched, his mouth set into a hard line, but his eyes were closed and for all that he looked almost peaceful. Sam shifted and felt the surprising sensation of Gene’s clothed erection nudging against his buttocks. As usual, the feel of that insistent heat against him stirred Sam’s cock in his trousers. He was still angry, his judgment clouded and without thinking he unzipped himself, watching Gene’s eyes flicker down to hold his gaze his face impassive and unreadable. Sam had scrambled forward on his knees, presenting his cock to Gene who had simply opened his mouth and taken Sam in. 

 

And it was wrong, Sam buzzing with the taste of adrenaline, forcing himself down Gene’s welcoming throat and coming quick and hard, with a bitten off moan. He dropped like a stone from the high of his orgasm, stomach plummeting as he realised what he’d done, ashamed of losing control, of using Gene like that in a moment of weakness. He had scrambled to his feet and backed hurriedly away, fetching a flannel and dropping to his knees to clean the cum and saliva from Gene’s face, avoiding Gene’s gaze, silent and embarrassed. Gene had just lain there, eyes closed as Sam had cleaned him up, and when Sam returned from fetching his cigarettes he was asleep. Sam had covered him with a spare blanket and placed a pillow next to his head before crawling guiltily into his own bed for a restless nights sleep.

 

But it had worked. Sam had woken up stiff and uncomfortable, to the sounds of Gene banging about in the kitchen. He had approached with caution, and was amazed. Gene was bright eyed and clean shaven, cigarette dangling from his lower lip as he made coffee for them both. They sat opposite each other at the kitchen table Gene rubbing his hands together in undisguised glee as they discussed the latest case. Sam wasn’t foolish enough to try and talk about what had happened, but as they were leaving for work Gene had caught him in a quick and fierce kiss, looked him squarely in the eye and nodded once. 

 

 

\----------------------

 

 

He always started with a fist on Gene’s tie, drawing the knot tight against his throat, turning himself hard edged in the blink of an eye, cold as flint. The pattern changed but the ritual stayed the same. This wasn’t about pleasure or pain or sex, this was about catharsis and cleansing and utter surrender.

 

This time it started in the Arms. Gene was drunk, propped against the wall in the corner as the team skirted warily around him and the collection of empty glasses crowded on the table. Sam stepped up and grabbed his tie, hand closing on cheap polyester, forcing him to his feet.

 

“Don’t fucking fight me Guv. You’re pissed and I’m taking you home.” Sam’s voice was hissed sibilants spat through clenched teeth as he tensed, alert and ready for resistance. Gene tried to pull away but was unsteady on his feet and ended up lunging forwards, forcing Sam’s hand against his throat, tightening the noose around his neck. Without a word Sam turned and dragged him from the pub by his leash.

 

“Get walking, and no smoking, you fucking stink as it is.” The harsh words plumed like smoke in the cold air as he shoved Gene in the back, directing him towards his flat.

 

“It’s freezing, give me your coat.”

 

“No bloody way.” Using his weight against him, Sam spun Gene and propelled him against the nearest wall, hearing his head crack sickeningly against brick. Sam held him there, his nimble fingers spread against Gene’s throat, using just enough pressure to constrict his breathing.

 

“It wasn’t a request Hunt. You’re carrying enough flab and you’ve drunk enough whisky to keep yourself warm in a snow storm. Don’t make me tell you again.” Sam didn’t wait for a response. Instead he gave a swift, precise kick to the patch of missing calf muscle where Gene was shot in ’57 and he went down, knees hitting concrete, the impact vibrating through chilled bones. Gene kept his eyes on the icy ground as he shrugged off his coat, and threw it belligerently at Sam’s chest.

 

He remained kneeling as Sam slid on the camel hair and stood in front of him. Sam could see the anger in Gene eyes, and struggled to keep his own face impassive and unreadable.

 

“Tyler.” The word came out as a whisper, and Gene grimaced and cleared his throat. Sam continued to stare down at him, schooling his features.

 

“What?” Gene broke Sam’s gaze, eyes dropping to the floor.

 

“What?” Sam was louder this time, more insistent, grabbing Gene’s hair and drawing his head back up to look at him.

 

“I want…” Gene stopped and breathed hard, his hand coming up from the ground heading for Sam’s thighs, before stalling in mid-air. Sam was ready to retaliate if Gene tried to touch him without permission and was surprised when Gene bunched his hand into a fist and punched the pavement. Sam almost flinched, almost stepped away, the fear that Gene had hurt himself threatening to overwhelm him. Instead he forced himself to laugh, high and harsh, twisting his face into the parody of a smile as he watched Gene on the cold ground before him, head forced upwards by Sam’s fingers tightening in his hair every time he tried to look away.

 

“Come on Hunt” he mocked “Tell me what you want and I won’t make you beg for it later.” He could see Gene warring with himself but he stayed mute staring reproachfully up at Sam, eyes flashing in rebellion, chin thrust out defiantly.

 

“Fucking pathetic” Sam spat, pushing Gene’s head sharply backwards until it smacked into the wall behind him. Sam stepped away shielding his face from Gene, letting him get to his feet and taking the time to steady his nerves. He hated doing this, hated having to push and humiliate but knew it was necessary, so he took a steadying breath and turned towards home.

 

“You’re a joke, you know that Hunt?”

 

“Fuck off Tyler.” Sam could see Gene trying not to shiver as he stalked along the road ahead of him, back straight, his whole body tense.

 

“Everyone thinks so. Everyone knows you’re a failure. They’re just too scared to say anything to the big-bad wolf” The sarcasm in Sam’s tone was clear. Gene stopped and turned on his heel to stare down Sam.

 

“Oh I suppose everyone aspires to be just like you do they? A sodding paperwork obsessed nancy boy who wouldn’t know real policing if it came up and bit him on the arse.”

 

“What, you think everyone wants to be like you the great Gene Hunt? A pig-headed ignorant twat who uses his fists instead of his brain, and thinks that drinking and smoking himself to death makes him a man?” Gene turned his back on Sam and started walking again.

 

“Shut up Sam”

 

“Snappy comeback Gene. You’re pathetic you know that? You pretend to be a sheriff when all you are is stupid Neanderthal copper. Not much of a man Hunt, not much of anything. Is it any wonder your wife left you?” Gene stayed silent after that, and Sam knew he was breaking. It killed him to do this, to lay Gene bare to all his hidden fears and weaknesses, forcing him to confront his demons in such a callous, uncaring way.

 

Sam grabbed Gene by the elbow as they approached his block of flats, pulling him into a darkened corner around the side where the bins were kept. The stench of rubbish and cat piss assaulted his nostrils as he grabbed onto Gene’s tie again and tugged sharply downwards. Gene knew the command, but resisted. Sam waited, listening to Gene’s breath catch before tugging again, and Gene dropped to his knees, back against the wall, squinting up into the dark.

 

“You waiting for me to order you?” Sam sneered

 

“You’re madder than I thought if you think I’m gonna do anything here.” Gene replied, voice firm and quiet. Sam responded by kicking Gene in the stomach, catching hold of his head as he bent reflexively forward, robbed of breath. Sam lent down to whisper in Gene’s ear.

 

“Just be thankful I’m not making you beg to suck me off and get to fucking work.” Sam reached down, swiftly un-buckling his belt and dragging his trousers over his hips, exposing himself to Gene. Sam wasn’t hard, he derived no pleasure from hurting Gene like this, but arrogantly thrust his hips forward all the same, tugging on Gene’s hair until his head was in the right position. The glow from the street light cast just enough light for Sam to see Gene’s face; eyes closed, frown line drawn into a deep scar down his forehead, his entire face tense as he leaned in and dipped to take Sam in his mouth.

 

Sam’s cock hardened quickly as Gene licked and sucked at him, lavishing attention and love onto him with smooth swipes of his tongue up down and around, drawing the tip further into his mouth to suckle gently, a slow and sensual worship. Sam soon found himself leaning against the wall, forehead flat against the cold brick, trying to stay quiet as he felt Gene’s tongue slide across the head of his erection with deft determined motions, every movement of lips and tongue and teeth designed to arouse and tease. Stifling a groan, Sam planted his legs wider apart and thrust quickly forwards, his cock slipping all the way into Gene’s wet mouth to graze the back of his throat, and Sam felt Gene tense as he fought to control his gag reflex. He started to thrust languidly into Gene’s mouth, feeling him relax and take him in, lips forming a tight seal, tongue flickering across Sam’s shaft as he slid in and out. Sam felt his balls tighten and quickly grabbed Gene’s head, pressing his hips further forward, feeling Gene’s throat constrict as Sam held him onto his cock and came down his throat with a cut-off gasp.

 

Sam immediately pushed backwards and stepped away, zipping himself up with shaky fingers and breathing hard.

 

“Up. Now.” Gene immediately rose to his feet, wincing as his knees audibly cracked. Sam pushed him hard in the back directing him towards the front door of the flats, and Gene stumbled once and went, head down and shoulders slumped.

 

Gene waited patiently beside Sam as he unlocked the door to his flat, taking him once again by the tie and leading him to the bedroom. He left Gene standing by the bed; eyes firmly fixed on the floor in front of him, and went and sprawled lazily in the armchair by the window. 

 

“Strip.” Gene looked up then, that spark of fight again in his eyes. Sam got quickly to his feet and stalked over to Gene.

 

“Why do you insist on these useless displays of petty rebellion? Do you want me to hurt you Hunt?” Gene shook his head once. “So be a good boy, and strip.” Sam tapped Gene’s cheek patronisingly and smirked, heading back to the armchair. Gene shrugged off his suit jacket, before unbuttoning his shirt, cold fingers making him clumsy and uncoordinated as he removed the rest of his clothes. He sat on the edge of Sam’s bed to remove his shoes and socks and Sam walked up behind him, snatching up his tie and tying it tightly around Gene’s head, tugging it down over his eyes to blindfold him. He saw Gene stiffen as he robbed him of sight, hands clenching at his sides.

 

Sam left him sitting and quietly moved around the room, dropping cushions on the floor next to the bed, grabbing the bottle of lube and removing his clothes, skirting carefully and stealthily around Gene who was moving his head, listening hard for any movement. And then he sat back in the chair and waited, silently watching Gene tense and alert on the bed, fingers furling and unfurling into fists, his breathing becoming steadily more rapid as Sam built the anticipation.

 

Finally Sam rose to his feet, and moved to stand behind Gene. Gently, without a word he took hold of Gene’s hands and handcuffed his arms behind his back. Gene’s breath hitched audibly as the metal bracelet snapped onto his wrist but he didn’t fight, didn’t move or try and twist away. A small shove against his shoulder and Gene fell to the floor on his knees. Sam stepped around the bed and stood a foot away, looking down at Gene kneeling at his feet. He looked so vulnerable and defeated, Sam wanted to kneel with him and hold him, beg his forgiveness for taking away his power, for breaking him like this, knowing that by taking away his right to touch and see he was robbing Gene of all the sensual joy he craved when fucking Sam.

 

“The bed’s behind you, and there’s a cushion for your knees. Turn yourself around and spread your legs.” Sam kept his voice soft and low and Gene obeyed without question, turning his head to the side and resting his cheek against the bedspread, quiet and docile. Sam approached, circling round, ensuring Gene’s knees were cushioned, the blindfold intact. He gently brushed himself against Gene’s side, knowing he would be sensitised to any touch. Sam stepped back, inhaling and exhaling in a steady controlled rhythm watching Gene, waiting for him to flinch or shiver or beg or plead for something, anything from him, but knowing there was one final barrier he had to break before Gene surrendered completely.

 

 

Gene remained still and silent as Sam placed his hands on Gene’s calves and lowered himself to his knees behind him shuffling forward between Gene’s legs, pressing his slim thighs against Gene’s. Sam squirted lube onto two of his fingers and entered Gene smoothly with no warning. He began to tease, sliding and circling with maddening slowness, crooking and corkscrewing. Sam lent over and saw Gene biting his lip to stay quiet, his body tensing again as he resisted the urge to push backwards, to moan at the rapidly warming fingers penetrating him, fighting the pleasure, not quite ready to break. 

 

Sam settled into a slow and steady rhythm with two fingers, patiently fishing and endlessly endlessly thrusting, his fingers warm and slick, curling, hooking, spiralling restless and insistent, forcing Gene to submit to his own pleasure, owning him completely with the relentless pressure, until with a choked off gasp Gene broke, pushing his hips backwards and groaning

 

“Sam…please”. Sam stilled and withdrew his fingers slowly, stroking his wet hand down and across his cock, drawing out the suspense, knowing that empty feeling all too well and listening to Gene’s primal need forcing pleas from his throat.

 

And then Sam leant forward, placing the head of his cock against Gene’s entrance, letting him feel the blunt pressure, before gripping onto Gene’s hips and sliding slowly in, invading and encompassing. Sam felt Gene tense, his hands curling into impotent fists at the small of his back, itching, twitching, still fighting every twinge of pleasure, Sam all the way inside him, so hard so alive so intimate so fucking deep, and Gene so open and vulnerable beneath him. Sam traced his fingers across Gene’s fist; coaxing his hand open with gentle strokes, entwining their hands together and gripping tight letting Gene feel his strength and acceptance. No words, just that simple, solid connection as Sam began to move. 

 

Sam moaned as he started to thrust into Gene, almost overwhelmed by the blinding heat, the velvet tightness, resisting the urge to kiss away the sweat beading on the back of Gene’s neck, as Gene groaned in counterpoint, a long low animalistic sound of desire that stuttered into a yelp as Sam angled his hips and let the head of his cock glance across Gene’s prostate. Sam trailed his free hand across Gene’s waist, and around his hip, before gripping his cock, letting Gene thrust into his hand as Sam slid in and out in long smooth strokes. He could feel Gene shaking under him, he never lasted long when Sam fucked him, the shame of his enjoyment quickly dissolving as he surrended himself completely to Sam. Sam was close too, revelling in the feel of Gene sweating and shivering underneath him but he was determined to hold off until Gene came, and started twisting his hand, fluttering his fingers against the shaft of Gene’s cock, angling his hips to nudge persistently against Gene’s prostate.

 

With an inhuman wail Gene came hard into Sam’s hand, his hips snapping forward uncontrollably, Sam barely able to stay inside him as he bucked. Sam thrust in hard, feeling Gene’s muscles clench and ripple, the sound of his name dragged from Gene’s throat tipping him over the edge into an intense orgasm.

 

Gene sagged forward as Sam breathed out and draped himself across Gene’s back, kissing a trail down his neck and spine, sliding his arms around his chest and holding him close, both men silent and breathing hard. After a few minutes Sam rose to his feet, keeping a hand on Gene’s back as he grabbed the handcuff keys from the bedside table. Swiftly he released Gene and removed the blindfold before taking his arm and helping him to his feet. Gene was unsteady, still shivering slightly as Sam led him gently to the bathroom and into the shower.

 

They stood there under the spray, locked together, Sam unwilling to let go of Gene for even a second, hands rubbing in soothing strokes down his arms and back as he felt Gene begin to reassemble himself. Sam reached for the soap and lovingly, meticulously washed every inch of Gene’s body, wordlessly handing him back his strength and power. They stayed under the shower until the water started to run cold, kissing languidly, both relaxed and boneless.

 

“Cup of tea and a fag I think Sammy boy” Gene announced stepping out of the shower behind Sam and landing a quick slap on Sam’s arse as he swaggered out of the bathroom a towel draped round his waist, spine straight. Sam caught sight of himself in the fogged mirror and grinned at his reflection before heading to the kitchen to make his guv a cuppa.

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Life in 1973 ficathon 2008. 
> 
> First posted to hans_fics on LJ - 08.09.2008


End file.
